


Slow Bending Axe

by canarypaper



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Pre-Slash, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canarypaper/pseuds/canarypaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this prompt on the kink meme: In the beginning, it was all fun and games, but as the quest becomes more dangerous, Fili starts worrying. Because the only reason his little brother Kili is part of the quest is because Fili joined it. Fili is rather young for a dwarf still, so nobody would have taken offense had he said "no, thank you". But he joined because of uncle Thorin, and there was no way that Kili would stay at home without his brother.</p><p>"Kili would nod with enthusiasm, because wherever Fili went, whatever Fili did, Kili was sure to follow him. His big brother was his hero."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Bending Axe

When Fili was very young, too young to even think of having a beard, his favorite place had been the field of tall grass on the outskirts of his village. He called it Danuk-Khizdin, the green place, and a fitting title it was. In the spring, it was nothing but the most beautifully vivid green grass that he had ever seen in his short life. Fili had not grown up surrounded by endless jewels and crystals, but Danuk-Khizdin was how he imagined shining emeralds to look. 

On those spring mornings, when the bluebirds and grosbeaks woke him with their melodic voices and the sun shone through the slight veil of mist, he would grin and slide eagerly from his bed. Quickly, he would dress and rush to little Kili’s bed, where he would tickle his brother’s nose and ears before the little dwarf woke up giggling. The pale morning light would shine in little Kili’s wide eyes and Fili would grin, saying, “Let us go to the field and be kings of the mountain today!”

And Kili would nod with enthusiasm, because wherever Fili went, whatever Fili did, Kili was sure to follow him. His big brother was his hero. 

Together, they would run out of their humble home, sometimes hand in hand, sometimes racing each other as fast as they could go. Fili sometimes would let Kili win those races, since he was older and Kili’s legs were still short. Their mother, Dis, would shout to them to be home by supper, then laugh quietly as she watched her boys charge over the ridge. 

There were all manner of things to do in Danuk-Khizdin. They could overturn the big, cold stones to look for squirmy little worms, have pretend swordfights with the big sticks they could find (Kili always pretended to be their uncle, Thorin), play hide-and-seek amongst the grass because the blades were still higher than their heads. Sometimes, they would go to the edge of the pond and try to catch fish (but there were never many fish to begin with).

“Look Fili!” Kili exclaimed one day, squatting on a rock at the edge of the pond. “Look look! What is it?”

Fili tossed away the handful of rocks he had been skipping to join him. He followed the line of his brother’s vision and saw a funny little toad sitting on a lily pad just beyond. Fili smiled. “Well, that’s a toad! He eats flies and bugs and,” Fili grinned mischievously, sneaking behind Kili, “little dwarves like you!”

Kili shrieked as Fili pushed him in the shallow water. He splashed and splashed while laughing, hopping to his feet to grab at Fili, but he only slipped on the algae covered rocks to fall back in again. All the commotion disturbed the toad and, in a moment of panic, it jumped on to Kili’s face before leaping away into deeper water. 

How Fili howled at the shocked look on his brother’s face. Wiping away tears, he exclaimed, “You’ve got a face like that toad! Your eyes as big as teacups and your mouth all agape!”

“No I don’t! I don’t look like a toad!” Kili cried, dragging himself out of the water to shove a handful of mud at Fili’s face. But they both kept laughing, Fili beginning to scoop up handfuls of mud as well, until they were both well and truly filthy. 

A long time later, when both little boys were thoroughly exhausted with mud caked in their hair and smeared on their clothes, they laid down in the tall grass to watch the colors of the sky change late in the day. They laid head to head, hands just brushing each other, eyes fixed on the fluffy clouds floating past their vision. The tall grass swayed in the cool breeze around them. 

The sky went from brightest blue, to pale pink, to a vivid orange. Fili felt sleepy, eyes beginning to drift shut, when Kili tugged on a lock of his hair. 

“Fili?” he said very quietly, brown eyes wide with unveiled honestly that only children possess. “Will you ever leave me?”

Fili frowned and tugged on a lock of Kili’s hair in return. “Of course not,” he said very seriously. “You’re my brother.” It was as if that answer could solve any problem in the world. 

Kili grinned. “Good. Because even if you did, I’d just follow you anyway,” he replied very matter-of-factly. 

The little blond dwarf giggled and poked his brother’s nose. “Whatever you say, Toad.”

As the sun set, setting the green field ablaze with color, Kili shoved a fistful of grass down his brother’s shirt, laughing all the while. 

 

*

 

The night following Azog’s attack, Fili watches the company from a distance. 

The night is cold, a harsh wind blowing through the trees, but that does not stop the jovial celebration of the dwarves. They are happy to be alive after such a close brush with death.

They are all bruised and bloody, limping and aching, but still they sing and tell stories. They have stoked a blazing fire and everyone is staring entranced at Bofur as tells an old story of their people, complete with wide gestures and strange voices. Even Thorin, the most wounded and tired looking of them all, has a small smile on his face, occasionally letting out a little breath of laughter. Bilbo sits next to their leader looking more comfortable and at ease than he’s looked since they left the Shire.

It is not a feeling that Fili shares. 

His stomach is churning with a sudden realization. 

We could all die tomorrow. 

It makes him want to run, to pack up all his things and just go home. Back to the Blue Mountains. Back to his home. Because he has a home, unlike the older members of their party. He was born in the Blue Mountains, raised there. He has places he remembers fondly and places that he hates. He has memories he dreams about from that land. 

He knew, objectively, that this quest would be dangerous. There would be perils like weather, poor shelter, broken bones, little food at times, and of course, Smaug. But the knowledge of Azog’s existence, the small, worried inkling that there was something else at play on this journey, made Fili worry. 

He may never see the Blue Mountains again. 

He watches as Ori thumps Kili on the shoulder as all the dwarves burst out laughing at Bofur’s story. His brother’s eyes are shining in the bright light of the fire. His smile is wide and so genuine that it makes Fili’s heart ache. His brother tosses his head back, a hearty rumble of laughter leaving his throat. 

He is so young. His beard is just scruff and he still sometimes wonders to Fili about how their mother might be doing at home. Painfully, painfully young. 

I have made a horrible mistake, Fili realizes, the knowledge of it making him feel physically sick. 

His brother could die tomorrow. And it would be his fault. 

Thorin had approached him about the quest in the early evening all those months ago. He was solemn as he requested Dis and Fili to leave the room, both doing so only after great protest. 

Leaning against the hearth, he made his request: “I would like you to accompany me to reclaim Erebor,” he said, getting straight to the point.

Fili’s eyes had widened in surprise. He had not known this was even something his uncle had been seriously considering as of late. For years he had heard the older dwarves speak of it, but it never moved past just being words spoken into the darkness of bitter memories. 

“I know you have no memory of Erebor, and the task itself will prove dangerous,” Thorin continued, staring at the kettle hanging over the hearth fire, “but as my heir, it would mean very much to me if you were to be at my side as we reclaim our rightful home.”

There had been little call for Fili to act as a prince in their small, provincial village growing up. But he was a prince nonetheless, trained to be so by the dwarf before him. There was only one answer, in Fili’s mind. 

“My king,” Fili said reverently, kneeling before Thorin, “I would be honored to restore the line of Durin to the throne of Erebor.”

Thorin laid a hand on Fili’s shoulder, squeezing gently. He could see the pride in his uncle’s face. “I could not ask for a more worthy heir.”

Fili had never felt more regal in his whole life. 

Kili, of course, had been listening just beyond the door, and assaulted Fili with questions as they retired to their bedroom. 

“When will you leave? Which road will you take? How many of us are going?” Kili fired one right after the other. 

Fili gave him a look. “Us?”

Kili rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Of course, ‘us’. I’m going with you.”

Fili laughed. “Oh no, not this time, little brother.”

They walked through the threshold of their room and Fili began pulling his tunic over his head, tossing it on his bed. 

“What do you mean by that?” Kili questioned. “Of course I’m going with you!”

“No, you most certainly are not,” he grumbled, sitting on the edge of his bed to pull his boots off. “This is my quest. Thorin requested me, not you. It’s going to be dangerous, Kili.” Fili gave him a leveling look. 

Kili pursed his lips, crossing his arms. “Have you forgotten that I’m also an heir to the line of Durin?”

Fili sighed. “Yes, but-“

“Do I not also have the right to retake the home that was ripped from our kin?”

“Kili, please-“

“Am I so inferior to you that you are so eager to be rid of me?” 

That was the comment that silenced Fili who looked to see a truly saddened expression on his brother’s face.

“Oh, my dear brother,” Fili sighed, reaching out an arm. Kili took it, sitting next to his brother upon the bed. They held hands like they had when they were small, Fili leaning close to catch his brother’s eyes. “Kili, I could never think you inferior. You are equal to me in all ways, except for perhaps my good looks.” 

Kili chuckled a little at that, a bit of light returning to his eyes. They looked at each other in silence for a moment.

“I just want to be with you,” Kili whispered. “As I always have been. I don’t know what I’d do with you gone.”

In truth, Fili felt the exact same way. For as long as he could remember, Kili had been his happy shadow, both of them constantly having their own adventures and getting each other into, and out of, trouble. 

“Oh, Kili.” Fili slung and arm around Kili’s shoulders and pulled him close, resting his head on top of the other’s. “Alright. Alright, tomorrow you must ask Thorin to join us. I will not leave you behind.”

“Excellent,” Kili said grinning. He then gripped his brother by the middle, pushed him bodily on to the bed, and smacked him in the face with a pillow.

It was a pretty typical way that their conversations ended. 

But now, looking at his brother’s glowing face, watching his lips twitch into a smile from where he sat near the campfire, he knew he had made the wrong decision. He should not have given in so easily. 

His brother could die tomorrow. And it would be his fault. 

 

*

 

“Fili!” Kili says cheerfully, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “Come back to the fire! Dwalin wants to regale us with his tales! And you know what an awful story teller he is,” he says, winking. 

It is later in the evening, closer to when the company should be retiring for the night. But it seems that everyone is so pleased to just be alive that sleep is elusive, even for their hobbit companion. 

Fili is standing by a small stream, purposefully far from the party so that the fire is only a distant glow through the trees. How Kili found him, he does not know, but he wishes he had not.

“Leave me be, brother,” Fili says, tiredly. “I just want to have a pipe and a moment to myself.”

“Aww, come on, Fili,” Kili prods, tugging on his arm. “You’ve been morose enough all day, let us have a bit of fun! We can braid stick bugs into Bombur’s hair when he’s not looking.”

Normally, he would be pleased to start a bit of mischief with his brother, but not now. Not when he feels so old all of a sudden. Not when he feels such a heavy weight on his shoulders. Such a burden of guilt. 

“Leave me be,” he repeats tugging his arm away, beginning to stuff his pipe with his leaf. 

Kili’s frowns, but presses on determinedly. “Now, brother, whatever has made you so cross? Surely all you need is a bit of fun!”

He looks at Kili’s innocent face, his hopeful look. But he also sees the thin slit across his cheek, a cut from the tip of an arrow head. Proof of how close he had come to death yesterday. It makes his heart constrict and his fury build. He turns away.

“Fili-“ Kili starts, reaching to grabs his brother’s arm again, worry in his tone. 

“I said leave me be, you bare-faced child!” Fili shouts, jerking his arm away and whirling to face him. 

It is like a punch to the gut and Kili staggers back, expression naked with hurt. His mouth thins after a breath and his look contorts into anger. 

“Fine,” Kili growls, spinning on his heel. “See if I care.” He stalks back to the campfire, seething the whole way. 

Fili takes a deep breath, returning to the task of filling his pipe, but his fingers have begun to shake violently. Cursing, he tries to steady himself. 

He wishes he could send Kili home without causing him disgrace, without hurting him more than he already has. 

(That cut on his face could easily have been an arrow through his skull.)

He wishes he could wrap his brother in his arms and hide him from every horrible thing in the world. 

(They could have tumbled from the tree and over the cliff. They almost had.)

He wants to tell him not to be so much of a fool as to admire him, because he is nothing but a terrified coward. 

(The wargs could have ripped Kili’s body apart, leaving nothing but limbs and blood, blood everywhere-)

Shouting in rage, Fili hurls his pipe at the trunk of a tree, watching it bounce off and hit the soft ground with an unsatisfying thump. He sinks to his knees and drops his face to his hands, heaving in breaths and eyes are burning. Fili is not a dwarf prone to tears, he’s too old for that, but the weight of his mistake is pressing heavily on him. He has no idea what to do. 

Blinking wildly, he focuses on the watery reflection of the silver moon in the slow moving stream. 

There is the sound of light footfall behind him and he looks up to Gandalf’s tranquil face looking back down.

“Good evening, Master Fili,” Gandalf says, lowering his creaky body to the grass of the bank. “A peaceful night for a smoke.” He withdraws his own pipe, lighting it, and blows a long breath into the air before them. 

Fili scrubs a hand over his face quickly and clears his throat. “Aye, it is, Gandalf. Very nice night indeed.”

He knows Gandalf probably saw what happened. The wizard has an infuriating habit of being in exactly the right place at the right time. But he is not going to give him the satisfaction of broaching the subject. If his uncle can withstand Gandalf’s irritating wisdom, then so can he. 

They both sit there, silently. Fili watches the moon, Gandalf watches his smoke. When the wizard begins packing a second load of leaf into his pipe, however, Fili sighs. It looks like he is prepared to wait him out, like an army laying siege to a particularly stubborn citadel. 

Fili plays with one of the beads in his beard, a bad habit, before opening his mouth to say something. Then he stops, unsure of how to proceed. It is not like he and the wizard are close, in fact, they seldom ever speak. How does he go about revealing his deepest fears to a complete stranger?

“I find,” Gandalf says around his pipe, head turning to look at him, “that the easiest place to start is at the beginning.” One corner of his lips turns up ever so slightly.

Fili huffs out a nervous laugh before crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. “Simple for a man who has no responsibility to kith or kin to say,” Fili says, only a little bitterly.

Gandalf lowers his pipe pointedly. “You may be surprised, young prince, to find that you are not the only one with heavy burdens on your conscience, but I assure that that is the truth.”

Feeling a little embarrassed at being so self-centered, Fili apologizes quietly. “I’m sorry for being rude, Gandalf, it is only that… It is only that I worry for my brother’s safety. I was the one who told him to come. I was the one who led him straight into all of this danger.” 

Once Fili begins, it is like he cannot stop all his worries from spilling forth. His pace picks up and there is no stopping his confession now. 

“All my life, I’ve been responsible for him. When he did something stupid, which he still does with great frequency, I was the one to get him out of it. To fix it. I can remember when he was small enough to hold in my arms, and so fragile that dropping him would kill him. I knew from that point that I had to keep him safe, that it was my job and no one else’s.”

He can feel the tears prickling at his eyes again, but still he presses on.

“He could have died yesterday, Gandalf! He might have been ripped right from me and there would have been nothing I could do about it. He’s like- he’s like a part of my own body. To lose him would be to lose an arm or a leg, or my very heart,” he takes a deep breath and runs a hand over his face. “If Kili dies, I should not want to live anymore. I should wish to die with him, so that whatever afterlife he finds himself in, I will be there to protect him. It means more to be with him than any allegiance I have to Thorin or Erebor.”

He is breathing heavily and there are tears streaking his cheeks now, but his voice is strong and his fists are clenched. He believes nothing more strongly than what he just told the wizard at this moment. 

A hand rests gently on his shoulder and he looks up to see Gandalf giving him a small smile. 

“Master Fili,” he says, voice warm and soothing, “you are a most honorable dwarf and Kili is fortunate to have you as a brother. Were we all only so lucky to have someone like you to look after us.” 

Fili looks away, feeling uncharacteristically bashful, but says nothing. 

“But you must also remember,” the wizard continues, looking out into the dark of the night, “that Kili is capable of his own choices. He is young, true, but so are you, and you make your own choices quite wisely when you are not aiming to cause mischief.” Gandalf’s eyes twinkle at this and Fili smiles. “Do not strip Kili of his honor by believing him to be incapable of autonomy.”

Gandalf’s words, surprisingly, make much sense. Fili begins to feel ashamed at how low he seemed to value his own brother’s choices. 

“He chose to follow you,” Gandalf says gently, “because he loves you, young master dwarf, not because you tricked him in some underhanded way. And love is more powerful than any goblin’s blade, warg’s bite, or even arguments with one’s brother.” Gandalf smiles down at him. 

Fili lets out a very deep breath and sits up straight. He feels… relieved. He feels lighter than he has since the eagles dropped them on the mountain. Everything is not lost, he realizes. Not yet. He is still here to keep Kili safe, and Kili is, indeed, old enough to be responsible for his own decisions. 

But still, he feels a pang in his heart.

“Do you suppose it ever gets any easier, Gandalf?” Fili questions, sounding small even to his own ears. “To know that something can happen to someone you care about so deeply?”

And Gandalf smiles down at him sadly, all the years of the wizard’s very long life etched clearly on his face. “I am afraid, Fili, that it never does. It is something that will live in the darkest corner of our hearts for all of our days.” He stands up then, brushing the grass from his robes. “But it is heartening to remember that even in the darkest hours, when the ones we love seem lost, they have never completely vanished. They will always be waiting, free from any pain, just on the other side.”

Fili looks up at him with wide eyes and smiles, slowly. “Thank you, Gandalf.”

“Good night, Fili.”

The wizard’s words stay with him for a long while, even after the sounds from the camp have died down and the light of the fire has burned low. 

 

*

 

He walks through the dark camp as quietly as possible, trying not to wake any of his sleeping kin. Bombur is snoring loudly, arms curled around his giant spoon. Ori is mumbling a little, clearly having a silly argument with someone in his dreams. Bofur tips his head at him from where he keeps watch from a tree stump, which Fili returns in kind. 

Eventually, he makes his way to where Kili is asleep on his own bedroll and lays his own right beside it so that their edges are overlapping. Gently, he lays down next to his brother, watching his face as he slowly breathes in and out. He looks like he did when he was very small, before Fili would tickle his nose in the mornings to wake him up. Unable to stop himself, he runs his fingers over the arch of Kili’s cheekbone.

One of his brother’s brown eyes cracks open and he yawns a little. “Feeling better?” he asks, eyes barely focused. 

“Much,” Fili replies quietly, cupping a hand around his brother’s face. “Just had to think some things over.”

Kili smiles his tiny impish smile. “I hope you didn’t hurt yourself.”

Fili chuckles, leaning over to kiss his brother on the forehead. “Shush, Toad.”

A small grumble, and Kili has slung his arm over his brother’s chest and snuggles his face under his chin. “’M not a toad.”

They lie there and as he can hear Kili drifting back to sleep, he whispers, “Do you remember Danuk-Khizdin, little brother?”

He can feel the small smile against his throat. “Yes.”

“Then promise me,” Fili murmurs with his eyes tightly shut, “promise me that if ever we become separated, if one of us goes where the other cannot follow, that we will find each other again in the green fields.”

Kili tightens his arms around Fili. “I promise, Fili. I promise with my whole heart.”

Though death is a specter that lurks in the darkest corner of Fili’s heart, now, like a slowly falling axe he has no power to stop, there is nothing is this world or the next that could tear him from his brother. 

They sleep wrapped around each other for the entire night. 

 

*

 

When the pain inflicted by his final battle recedes and the mist clears from his vision, he can make out the grass swaying before him. There are no wounds on his body, no aches in his bones, and no blood in his eyes. He feels, once more, whole and healthy and free. 

The sun is warm on his skin and he is unburdened by armor or weaponry. Smiling, he tilts his face up to soak in the rays.

When he looks back down, he can see the pond where he chased frogs and skipped stones. He gently picks up a stick he remembers pretending was a sword, once, a long time ago. 

Looking in the distance, he can see something. Something standing in the middle of the field, surrounded by the glorious emerald blades of grass.

He knows exactly who it is. 

The figure, with his long dark hair and blinding smile, turns to face him, laughter ringing out like bells in the distance. 

His heart swells and the purest happiness crashes over him. 

Because even in death, Fili realizes, wherever Kili goes, Fili is sure to follow.

**Author's Note:**

> I have not read the book, but I am, if only vaguely, aware of what happens to Fili and Kili at the end of the story. *sobs*
> 
> The title comes from the Bon Iver song "Brackett, WI" because the melody fit the mood of this piece as I was writing it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
